


almost here

by KataraYue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, POV Sakusa Kiyoomi, but not overly sad either, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KataraYue/pseuds/KataraYue
Summary: On many levels, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a pretty lucky guy, from his natural physical abilities to the people he got to meet throughout his life, he knows luck is an overall significant factor in his life.The fact that he happened to meet his soulmate, too, should be considered luck.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64
Collections: Bonk Secret Santa





	almost here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audentis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audentis/gifts).



> merry christmas [halley](https://twitter.com/sakuspvce)! i'm your secret santa and i hope you'll enjoy your fic ❤

On many levels, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a pretty lucky guy, from his natural physical abilities to the people he got to meet throughout his life, he knows luck is an overall significant factor in his life.

The fact that he happened to meet his soulmate, too, should be considered luck.

From the moment Kiyoomi met Atsumu, he had strongly disagreed with this fact. When he looks at him from the corner of his eyes, half-hidden behind his locker door, Atsumu eagerly talking with Bokuto, he thinks, not for the first time, that he has always been right about that.

There’s a buzzing in his ears and an ache in his chest he can’t quite control, making him want to crawl into a ball, right there on the floor of the locker room, or maybe—if he’s being more realistic about it, go home to try to forget about everything that just happened.

Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice anything, neither the way his breathing is growing out of control nor the tight grip he has on the metallic door. Kiyoomi doesn’t know if he feels relieved or hurt.

He hears a few words exchanged between his teammates, and even through his cluttered mind, Bokuto’s awfully loud  _ “It’s awesome Tsum-Tsum!” _ makes him wince. He hates how his brain seems to allow Atsumu’s voice to reach him so much better when he says,  _ “‘Samu’s got a matching one.” _

Kiyoomi glances at Atsumu, but immediately looks away, the sight still too much to handle in his state. Just like it has always done when Atsumu is involved, his own body betrays him and his eyes instinctively fall on his right hand, still clutching the locker door.

Everything is awfully loud, awfully fast, awfully overwhelming, and Kiyoomi hates every second of it. The situation is also awfully familiar, the memory still vivid in his mind, and he can’t help but scoff at his so-called  _ luck. _

Just like it is now, the locker room was noisy back then, so much noisier than usual as they all changed clothes for practice, Bokuto and Atsumu especially loud and obnoxious. 

“Omi-kun, touch it too!” Atsumu yelled at him as Bokuto was busy groping his thigh.

“For the last time, I don’t care about your new lotion,” Kiyoomi said, already feeling the headache coming. “I’m not touching your thigh.”

“You should,” Bokuto intervened, sounding amazed. “It’s so soft.”

Atsumu shoved Bokuto’s hand away and started walking towards Kiyoomi, limping because he was so busy telling everyone in the room to touch his legs that he stopped halfway through putting his shoes on.

“C’mon don’t be so prickly!” Kiyoomi could see from the insufferable grin on Atsumu’s face that he didn’t even care about showing him how amazing his new lotion supposedly was and simply enjoyed being a dick on purpose. “Just touch it al—”

Before Kiyoomi could even register the situation, he felt his body move on reflex, catching Atsumu’s biceps to prevent him from falling and possibly opening his skull on the bench when he tripped.

He felt it, the tingling sensation under his palm, right where his skin met Atsumu’s, but he didn’t dwell on it, not right away.

He helped him stand for a few seconds, and finally, let go of his arm when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall again.

“Are you okay?” Meian said, quickly making his way towards them, Bokuto in tow.

“Yeah,” Atsumu said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I just tripped.”

“On your own bag,” Kiyoomi deadpanned. “And because you didn’t tie your shoes correctly. Maybe that’ll teach you.”

Bokuto was the first one to notice. Atsumu opened his mouth, ready to argue some more about the matter and make it a bigger deal than it needed to be, when Bokuto’s quiet, almost breathless voice cut them off.

“Tsum-Tsum…” he said in such a low voice that it immediately attracted everyone’s attention. When Kiyoomi’s eyes fell on him, he looked just like he sounded; completely dumbfounded. Without a word, he lifted a hand and pointed at Atsumu’s arm.

Kiyoomi followed Bokuto’s gaze, and when his eyes spotted what Bokuto was pointing at, he felt the air being punched out of his lungs. He was simply staring at Atsumu, lips parted and eyes empty, not even daring to breathe.

On Atsumu’s arm, right where Sakusa had gripped him, was displayed a golden mark, roughly forming the shape of a hand. It was a rich, deep, fascinating gold, so vibrant it made Kiyoomi’s whole body shiver, even in his state of shock. Rationally, he knew what was happening, had seen enough stupid romcoms with Komori, listened to his mother’s stories enough to know the meaning behind this, but just like his body was completely frozen in place, his mind refused to process the information. The only thing he knew was how  _ beautiful _ this golden mark was, and how it felt like he could never tear his gaze away from it.

He was forced to look away when Atsumu started moving, his movements fast and irritated. In one movement, he took Kiyoomi’s right hand between his to look at his palm, exposing to everyone’s eyes the matching golden mark covering it.

He heard, from somewhere behind him, someone gasp, and he saw, from the corner of his eyes, Meian and Bokuto’s equally worried and cautious expressions, but none of that mattered at the moment. Atsumu’s grip wasn’t delicate, his hands were rough and shaky, and his nails were digging into his skin, threatening to break it. Still, all he could focus on was the tingle running on his skin, so unlike everything he had ever known.

_ “Fuck.”_ Atsumu let go of his hand all at once, suddenly taking a few steps back, putting as much distance between them as possible in the limited space.

It was at least enough to pull everyone out of their shock. Kiyoomi’s eyes refocused, and when he saw panic twisting Atsumu’s face, he wondered briefly if he was the only one fascinated by the marks. Maybe he just hadn’t processed the situation yet.

“Alright, Coach is probably waiting for us,” Meian said after a while. “Everyone out, now.”

For once, no one complained, following their captain’s orders without even talking. Their teammates started moving around them, the sudden agitation making Kiyoomi’s head hurt after the prolonged silence, but neither Atsumu nor him made any movement to follow them. No one seemed surprised about it either, and when the door closed behind Bokuto, after he shot them a small smile, leaving Atsumu and Kiyoomi alone, Kiyoomi figured giving them space to talk about it was probably the intention all along.

The air in the room hung heavy between them, filled with tension and an unbearable silence. The seconds stretched into minutes, every moment making Kiyoomi feel a little more restless, and for the first time since he joined the Black Jackals three months ago, or even since he met him in high school, Kiyoomi wished Atsumu would just open his mouth and be his loud and obnoxious self.

When the silence became too insufferable to handle, Kiyoomi sighed and decided to make the first step. They had practice right after that, and he didn’t want to lose too much time over this. “Look, that’s not what I expected either, but now—”

“Sakusa,” Atsumu cut him off. His voice was cold, colder than Kiyoomi had ever heard it. Somehow, his name on Atsumu’s tongue felt like a warning, and it made Kiyoomi stop right there, more obedient than he would have liked to be. “It ain’t gonna happen.”

Suddenly, Kiyoomi felt his blood boil in his veins; for one second, he had almost forgotten Atsumu’s stupid ability to make him see red. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, “Who do you think I am, Miya?” He stared directly into Atsumu’s eyes, but he only saw a deep, cold sense of purpose. He didn’t know what was happening, where the panicked, angry shouts he let out earlier went, but when he looked at Atsumu like that, he almost didn’t recognize him. It was the same kind of determination he wore on the court, but it was awfully  _ quiet. _ “Do you think I  _ like _ this situation?”

“Dunno, do you?” It was a gratuitous provocation and Kiyoomi knew it. Still, it didn’t stop him from starting to feel really annoyed, both by the situation and Atsumu’s behaviour. Atsumu put his hands on his hips and resumed, “Alright, ya better hear me out ‘cause I won’t be sayin’ it again. I don’t care about the universe, or the gods, or whoever the fuck decided it’d be cool to fuck with our lives.” He took a step closer, then another one until he was right in Kiyoomi’s face, unwavering determination burning in his eyes. “I don’t care about soulmates, I don’t  _ want  _ a soulmate, and I’m not gonna let some stupid mark on my arm tell me what I should do with my life.” He leaned back slightly, leaving Kiyoomi’s space, but neither of them averted their eyes. “Got it,  _ Omi-kun_?”

And with the annoying nickname back, it already felt a little less like evolving in unknown territory. When he opened his mouth again, Kiyoomi made sure his words were as harsh, as cutting as he could muster. “If you think I could ever fall for you, you are greatly overestimating yourself, Miya.”

“Thought so,” Atsumu smiled cheekily. “Alright, if we’re on the same page, we have practice. Wouldn’t want to fall behind, right?” he teased, already walking towards the door.

“Miya,” Kiyoomi called before he could leave, totally ignoring his comment. He waited until Atsumu turned back to face him again, an eyebrow raised. “The marks. People are gonna see them.”

There was a beat of silence where they just stood there, Kiyoomi waiting for an answer and Atsumu looking confused. “And?” he finally said, making Kiyoomi roll his eyes.

_ “And,” _ Kiyoomi started, annoyed by Atsumu’s sudden carelessness. “People are gonna talk, they’ll assume we’re together and never leave us alone. We’re public personalities, and you know how rare it is for soulmates to meet, and how the press craves for news like this. It’ll have consequences.”

Atsumu’s eyes scanned him, analyzing him like  _ he _ was the one being unreasonable, when only a few minutes ago he seemed absolutely repulsed by the thought of being Kiyoomi’s soulmate.

“Your mark is on your hand, ya can’t hide that,” he declared, and Kiyoomi had to have an absolute control over his body not to immediately leave the room. Atsumu seemed to pick up on his level of annoyance because, for once, he backed out first. “Alright,  _ fine, _ if you find a way to hide it, I won’t stop ya, but I’m not coverin’ mine.”

“I assumed you’d be the first one asking to keep this a secret,” Kiyoomi stated in disbelief.

“Well, you were wrong,” Atsumu answered easily. “I don’t care about what folks think of me. They can say whatever they want about my mark, it ain’t gonna have any meaning if I don’t give it one.”

Kiyoomi stared at him, baffled by Atsumu’s single-minded confidence. Still, he perfectly knew how serious Atsumu was being about the situation, and even if he didn’t totally understand his reasoning, he had a feeling they’d end up talking about it again, whether they wanted it or not.

“Let’s just go practice,” he ended up saying, relieved when Atsumu only smiled and followed him out of the locker room.

The thing is, Kiyoomi had always been right about their situation. Almost everything changed that day, but after some time, it all started to feel oddly repetitive. Telling journalists that no, he wasn’t dating his setter, and no, he wasn’t gonna comment any further on the matter, got tiring pretty quickly, but surprisingly, it wasn’t the worst part. 

At first, it was the excitement. It was seeing his parents, his siblings, and even Komori getting all excited because they were seeing a soulmark for the first time. It was Ushijima congratulating him on the phone after reading the news that Atsumu was his soulmate, his voice monotonous but incredibly earnest. It was the old lady living next to him seeing a glimpse of his right hand and asking him  _ “Who’s the lucky person?” _

Then, it was the pity. Kiyoomi hated that more than anything else. If he couldn’t really blame people for getting excited at the thought of seeing a soulmark, considering it was something that usually only happened in the stupid movies Komori loved to watch, he seriously didn’t understand the next step. He didn’t get the sorry looks people wore on their faces as soon as he told them he wasn’t dating his soulmate, he didn’t understand why they would suddenly care so much about his love life when they didn’t even know him or Atsumu. Maybe the general public had this romanticized, fantasized idea of soulmates, and surely he and Atsumu didn’t fit in there, but Kiyoomi knew what reality really was for them, and he had accepted it long ago.

Because if he was being honest, Kiyoomi didn’t totally hate the idea of soulmates. He’d never hoped for one, knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, but had it been anyone other than Atsumu, he would have thought this was another instance of luck having a say in his life. Not necessarily the universe, or fate, but luck.

But no matter what he could have wanted, his soulmate  _ was _ Atsumu, and there was nothing remotely lucky about that.

At first, Kiyoomi had been mostly annoyed, maybe even mad at the universe for playing with them like that. It wasn’t like he expected to actually meet his soulmate over the course of his life, but there was a difference between never meeting them and finding out it was  _ Atsumu. _

Then, later, when he slowly, grudgingly got to know Atsumu, Kiyoomi realized the universe wasn’t simply playing with them, it was downright cruel.

Atsumu was abrasive and ruthless, and precisely because of that, he never wore on his face these expressions of pity that Kiyoomi despised. Atsumu was as selfish as he was selfless, as greedy as he could give, he was complex and intriguing, and Kiyoomi couldn’t help but be drawn to him. 

And the more he got to know him, the less he could look away. Atsumu was always burning with determination and love. It took a while, a lot of observation, and the tingling sensation under his palm every time he slammed down a ball Atsumu set for him for Kiyoomi to figure it out, but Atsumu, he realized, loved on purpose. Atsumu didn’t  _ fall _ in love, he woke up every morning and, as opposed to everything else in his life, steadily, quietly chose to love.

And just as steadily, just as quietly, when the universe told him he had to fall in love with Kiyoomi, Atsumu refused. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Kiyoomi fell for him anyway.

Suddenly, Kiyoomi slams shut his locker door, cutting off any conversation happening around him. It wasn’t his intention, but compared to the thousands of needles piercing his heart, he can’t really bring himself to care.

Just like it happened months ago, most of the team gets up in silence to leave the room, Meian not even having to say anything this time. When he passes next to him, Bokuto’s strong hand lands on his shoulder, his grip firm, and grounding. It’s not pity, Kiyoomi knows that, he knows the man well enough to see it’s simply concern, but it makes his skin crawl nonetheless.

Once alone with Atsumu, Kiyoomi can’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation. It feels like he’s back to this one conversation, in this same locker room, with the same pathetic tension between them as Kiyoomi refuses to look at Atsumu.

This time, too, Atsumu stays quiet. It’s unsettling and it feels wrong, and Kiyoomi feels so incredibly bare in front of him, to the point of discomfort, but it’s just too much to hide it anymore, so he just thinks  _ Fuck it _ and finally looks at Atsumu.

The air catches in his throat when his eyes inevitably fall on Atsumu’s biceps, right where his soulmark used to stand proud. Instead, the only thing he sees is a beautiful, elegant fox tattooed on Atsumu’s skin, dancing around his arm. It’s undeniably gorgeous, but the most striking part of the tattoo is the rich, deep, vibrant golden eyes. Kiyoomi flexes his right hand at the sight, his palm  _ burning. _

It shouldn't hurt like this. Because he knows, he's always known it'd end like this. He's always known it would never even start. Still, knowing that it would never happen, and having the physical proof spread out right before his eyes are two vastly different things.

“You covered it,” he says between clenched teeth, ignoring the throbbing ache in his chest as best as he can.

“Ah…” Almost tenderly, Atsumu brushes the outline of his tattoo with his finger. “It’s more convenient, y’know? Last time I took a guy home he thought I was cheatin’ on ya,” he tries to laugh it off, but the sound dies in his throat, and Atsumu is left looking almost sheepish in front of Kiyoomi. It doesn’t help ease the pain in his heart, knowing that Atsumu most definitely knows the truth behind this conversation.

“I thought it wouldn’t have any meaning unless you gave it one.” Kiyoomi’s voice is even, so unlike the storm of emotions raging inside of him.

There’s a moment of silence where the only thing Kiyoomi can hear is the deafening pounding of his own heartbeat. He feels it in his head, cluttering his mind and hurting, and he thinks faintly that for someone who never asked for love to come, it sure as hell fucked him up.

“Maybe it started,” Atsumu says at last, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Having meaning, I mean.” Atsumu’s words set Kiyoomi’s hand ablaze, and the only thing he can do is endure the pain, completely breathless. When he speaks again, Atsumu’s voice is somehow even quieter, and Kiyoomi can’t get used to it, can’t believe Atsumu chooses to break his heart the same way he chooses to love. Quietly, steadily, on purpose. “But it’s over now, it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Something breaks inside of Kiyoomi, the last strings of his restraint dissolving under the sheer rage he’s feeling. He takes one step closer to Atsumu, letting all of his anger finally take over. “You don’t get to say that,” he bites out, right in Atsumu’s face, cold, raw anger almost eclipsing the hurt behind his words. “You don’t get to go out of your way and do all these things, and then tell me  _ that.” _

He can see Atsumu has stopped breathing, and he looks almost guilty under Kiyoomi’s unforgiving stare. He inhales shakily, and says, “I know.”

“No,” Kiyoomi snarls. “No, you don’t know, you don’t know  _ anything. _ _ You _ were the one who decided everything.” He pushes into Atsumu’s space, forcing him to take a step back.  _ “You _ decided you hated soulmates and  _ I  _ had to go along with it,  _ you  _ decided nothing would never happen, and  _ you  _ decided you wouldn’t even cover up your mark because you apparently don’t care about what anyone has to say about it.” Another step, and then another, until Kiyoomi hears the sound of Atsumu’s back meeting with the lockers. “Because it doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, right? Because it never means anything with you, because you don’t care what it means to  _ me.” _

Atsumu frowns at him, his knuckles white from trying to grip at the lockers. Kiyoomi doesn’t touch him, doesn’t force him to stay there, he could get away from him at any moment. Instead, Atsumu stares back at him, his head slightly tilted up, and it’s only when Kiyoomi realizes how close they are.

“You were fine with that.”

“Yeah, I was,” Kiyoomi concedes. “I was fine with that because I’m not an asshole who only cares about their own feelings. But you don’t have  _ any _ right to come into my face and suddenly tell me things like this, not when you  _ know _ it won’t change anything.” The more the words fall out of his mouth, the more Kiyoomi can feel his anger die down, replaced by sharp pain. “You didn’t even tell me you were gonna get it covered,” he says, resigned and hurt. The silence is heavy between them for a few seconds, and when Kiyoomi opens his mouth again, the words aren’t coated with anger, just the cold, implacable truth. “You’re nothing but a selfish jerk, Atsumu.”

Hurt flashes before Atsumu’s eyes, but he quickly swallows it back. His eyes harden, unapologetic. “I know.”

There’s no pity in Atsumu’s words, just a tangible sadness, and Kiyoomi is somehow grateful for that. He pushes Kiyoomi out of the way with his shoulder and walks towards the door, not looking back once. Kiyoomi hears the click of the handle, and then nothing. Still, if the burn in his right hand is any indication, he knows Atsumu is still in the room.

“Just so ya know,” he says after a while. “I don’t regret my decision.”

Kiyoomi inhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You better not.”

Without another word, Atsumu leaves the room, and Kiyoomi doesn’t try to hold him back.

Instead, he ignores the sharp pain piercing through his heart and fights back the tears burning his eyes. He refuses to let himself break here, surrounded by empty lockers and the disgusting smell of the gym. Methodically, almost on muscle memory alone, he goes through his usual routine before leaving the gym.

He doesn’t stop when he hears a ball slam down hard on the floor. He doesn’t need to look to know Atsumu is practicing his serves, the way he always does when he needs to stop thinking.

Despite everything he’s said to him, the worst part is probably that Kiyoomi actually understands Atsumu. As much as he hates to admit it, he knows Atsumu, probably a little too much, and he knows how earned his success is. Just like it is for Kiyoomi, luck is undeniably a big factor in his life, but it’s so overshadowed by his hard work that everyone seems to forget about it.

Atsumu makes everything count, he lives thoroughly, sometimes a bit too much, just to chase this feeling, this rush he can’t quite get enough of. Atsumu refuses to let his talent define him, always reinventing himself in a world full of monsters, fighting his way to the top by his own means.

And so, how could Kiyoomi ever blame him for despising the idea of the universe deciding who his soulmate should be? How could he when he’s been the first one asking himself how genuine his feelings were, wondering if he would have fallen for Atsumu the same way if they weren’t soulmates. It’s something neither of them can answer, and Kiyoomi knows it would have hung heavy over their heads if they decided they wanted to try, like the last piece of a puzzle that doesn’t fit anywhere, ultimately tearing them apart.

_ We’re better off like this, _ Kiyoomi tells himself, and he means it, but maybe it would be less painful if he could simply blame it all on Atsumu, instead of something as abstract as the universe.

When he sees the outline of his building complex in the distance, he speeds up his pace. His feet dragged him home without Kiyoomi even noticing, too lost in his thoughts for that, but now that he’s finally there, he yearns for the comfort of his own apartment, away from the noisy, maddening outside world, and away from Atsumu.

Thankfully, he doesn’t run into any of his neighbours before finally reaching his apartment, he doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to pretend at this moment. He opens his door and steps in, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. Everything is put neatly in its place, just like he left it before leaving for practice, and this sight alone eases a little the suffocating ache in his chest.

Rationally, Kiyoomi knows that his life isn’t over at the sheer age of 23, just because he got rejected, even though the situation isn’t quite as simple as that. He knows what a wonderful thing time is, and he knows it won’t be like this forever. One day, the pain will go away, and looking at Atsumu won’t make his heart ache anymore, it’ll only be a distant, sour memory. Kiyoomi also knows he isn’t one to wander in his pain, to passively let it consume him. 

Tomorrow, he will go back to his successful, incredibly lucky life. Tomorrow, he will execute his routine just like any other day, do the tasks he has to accomplish to maintain this luck. Tomorrow, he will also start looking for ways to remove a soulmark, the golden burn in his hand a constant reminder of the pain he’s feeling.

But all of that is for tomorrow. For now, Kiyoomi closes the door of his apartment behind him, takes off his shoes, walks the few meters separating him from the couch, and breaks down. 

At last, he lets himself feel it all. He doesn’t fight the tears running down his cheeks, doesn’t silence his sobs, doesn’t contain the pain piercing through his heart. He lets it overflow freely, maybe for the first time ever as his nails dig into one of the cushions. He doesn’t fight his mind when images of Atsumu inevitably come to him, both the incredibly happy ones he’s had the luck to witness in the last few months, but also more bitter ones. He sees the hurt in his eyes earlier that day, hears his words ring in his ears. He mourns this relationship that never got the chance to start, lets himself cry over it, just for one night, before burying it and never looking back.

Tomorrow, he will be fine. But for now, he allows himself to finally let go.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! ❤
> 
> writing this fic was super interesting because it's so out of my comfort zone it's honestly laughable, i hope you liked reading it at least half as much as i liked writing it. it was also my very first time writing angst so i hope it was still enjoyable for you!
> 
> angst for christmas might be a bit unusual, but i hope everyone who got to read this still enjoyed it! kudos and comments are highly appreciated, and merry christmas sakuatsu fandom ❤
> 
> and if you feel like it you can come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/martialarcs)


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